


Volunteering

by EvaBelmort



Series: The Magnus Library [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 08:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21455173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvaBelmort/pseuds/EvaBelmort
Summary: Gerry Keay went to the Magnus Library to drop off some boxes of his late mother's papers, that was all.
Series: The Magnus Library [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546657
Comments: 9
Kudos: 132





	Volunteering

Gerard Keay was accustomed to people finding him a bit intimidating at first. He figured it was a combination of his height, his tattoos, and his tendency to wear solid black clothes with a lot of buckles. The first time he met Jonathan Sims, the man made a small choking noise and almost tripped over, sagging against the side of his desk, and then managed, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. I’m Jonathan Sims, the Local Studies Librarian. What, what can I do for you?”

Gerard felt vaguely apologetic; Gertrude liked her quiet, so he’d deliberately been making as little noise as possible. “Hey, _I’m_ sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Is Gertrude around?”

He had no idea why that made the new guy pale even further, actually swaying a little like he wanted to take a step back. “I-I apologise, but I can’t give out any information on former staff members.” He sort of braced himself, and then said, “If you need to get in touch with Ms Robinson, I can forward your contact details and if she wishes to reply then she will.”

Gerard felt his shoulders sag. “Oh. I- You know, it honestly didn’t occur to me that she wouldn’t be here. Always figured her for the type that’d get carried out in a box, you know? I guess… well. Good for her. I hope she’s doing something fun.” He shook his head. “Right. Well, I suppose you’re _the_ Local Studies Librarian, then? I figured maybe they’d gotten a second one, but I guess not.”

“No, that’s- that’s my job, now. So… you have a question about local history?” He sounded a little dubious. 

Gerard snorted. “Not exactly. My mother, Mary Keay, died a couple of months ago. She was researching our family history, and Gertrude used to help her out. Or argue with her? They were friends, my mum worked here back before she went into bookselling. Anyway, she said she wanted the research to go to Gertrude, since she knew I wasn’t going to do anything with it. It’s local stuff, about our family, but Mum was convinced we were related to the Von Closen family so there’s a lot of information on them as well. They were-“

“Contemporaries of the Magnus family, yes,” Jonathan agreed, nervousness forgotten in favour of rapt attention. 

“Right,” Gerard said. “So, I suppose if Gertrude’s quit she probably doesn’t want all Mum’s research… D’you want it for the library anyway?”

“I- Well, I can’t guarantee it will make it into the collection, that would really depend on what she actually had, and whether the research is verifiable, although if she worked here before, ah- Yes, I suppose, if you don’t mind what we do with it?”

“Honelty, I don’t care if you file it in the bin,” Gerard muttered, then he sighed. “Yeah, just- I don’t know, put her name on it if you wind up using any of the research, I guess.”

“Of course!” Jonathan sounded faintly offended, then he hesitated. “And, ah, my condolences on your loss.”

Gerard waved a hand vaguely. “Thanks, mate. Look, can I borrow a trolley or something? There’s five boxes and they’re a bit heavy.”

It took two trips even with both of them and one of the bigger trolleys, and then Gerard helped stack them in the staff-only storage area once Jonathan had had a look inside. 

It was strange being back up here, made Gerard feel sort of nostalgic and fond, and he was still feeling a bit softer than usual when he looked over at the new librarian, who was staring at the pile of boxes with a mixture of interest and exhaustion. “Hey,” Gerard said, uncertainly. “Do you want some help with that?”

“Pardon?” Jonathan blinked at him, confused.

Gerard shrugged. “I feel a little bad dumping all this on you, and I used to help Mum with the research when I was younger and we were still- Anyway, if you wanted a hand sorting it out, I can spare a few hours a week for a bit.”

“Oh!” Jonathan brightened. “Well, that would be- If you don’t mind?”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it,” Gerard told him, amused.

“In that case, yes, that would be wonderful. I- You’ll need to fill out a volunteer form, I’ll get that for you, and let me know when you’ll be available, and. Thank you.”

He went to get the paperwork, and Gerard stared around the familiar shelves, figuring this would be good for him. A couple of weeks going through Mum’s papers to see what was useable and ease the faint twinge of guilt that he hadn't followed her instructions exactly, and maybe it would even feel like closure. 

Jonathan, Gerard discovered slowly, was incredibly jumpy. He twitched whenever the elevator dinged or someone came up the stairs, and after he actually spilled tea on himself one time, Gerard decided this was ridiculous. He went through his jewellery drawer that night, and came out with a couple of chain bracelets and a dog collar with heavy links attached to D-rings all the way around. 

The second time he wore the collar, Jonathan stopped him before he left, and said awkwardly, “Ah, when I made a joke about putting a bell on you, I certainly didn’t mean for you to do it.”

Gerard shook his head, enjoying the little chiming sounds the links made. “I like this one, but Gertrude once glared at me for breathing too loudly, so I got used to being quiet up here. Making a bit of noise doesn’t bother me.”

Jonathan’s expression eased, the perpetual frown actually smoothing away, leaving Gerard abruptly revising his estimation of Jonathan’s age down by about a decade. “Oh, well. In that case, thank you, Gerard.”

“Gerry,” he said impulsively. “My friends call me Gerry.” And if the way Jonathan’s thin mouth shaped the syllables of his name as he said, “Then, thank you, Gerry, and please, call me Jon,” made his ears warm, well, that was no-one’s business but his own.


End file.
